Four days later
London, England
Zoe paused at the entrance to the VIP lounge of Mermaids, a private London lesbian club. She liked the upstairs VIP lounge and its leather and velvet “gentlemen’s club” interior design. The downstairs nightclub dazzled with its neon rainbow lights, crystal-speckled mirrored walls, and light peach-colored furniture, but the nightclub’s contrast to the traditional dark hardwood-paneled English lounge made the VIP room feel all the more special.
But while the nightclub’s glitz contributed to Mermaids’ popularity, it was the scents that made the club an international success. Women came from all over the world to experience the exotic fragrances secreted by hidden nozzles, and to experience the drug-induced euphoria they created.
Sirena, the owner, waved at her from the corner booth. A plump blonde, she wore a scooped-neck cherry-red satin dress that accented her ample bosom and showcased her diamond choker, which sparkled almost as much as the three-tiered chandelier overhead.
The eight other women in the lounge were a stylish cosmopolitan group. The type of clientele she’d expect to find at Mermaids, which catered to high-powered international lesbians. The lounge patrons ranged from a tall, beige-business-suited blonde Scandinavian, to a petite dark-haired Asian in a royal blue dinner dress, to a busty redhead in a tight purple V-necked nightclub dress who looked to be from Ireland. They exuded worldliness, and any one of them, like Zoe, could’ve been stopping in London while globe-trotting on business or leisure.
“You look stunning,” Zoe said, kissing Sirena on the cheek.
Returning the kiss, Sirena eyed Zoe’s black sequined bodysuit. “As do you.”
Zoe smiled at the olive-garnished martini glass in her friend’s hand. She’d never seen her drink anything but a dirty martini in the seven years she’d been coming to the club.
“What are we celebrating?” Sirena said with a mischievous smile as a waitress brought Zoe’s champagne.
Zoe grinned back.
“Oh, let me guess.” Sirena placed her finger on her chin and tipped her head to the side pretending she was thinking. “A treasonous thief’s death?”
Zoe laughed. Her friend had helped set up Xavier’s murder tonight.
Sirena said, “How’s Isabel?”
“She’s good. We’re engaged and hope to marry soon.”
“Ohhh! Congratulations. You should get married here. I’d love to sing at your wedding.”
As she sipped, Zoe felt a warm rush of gratitude. How nice to have a friend who didn’t question your decisions and was just happy for you. Isabel liked Sirena too. Five years ago, while on a short vacation in London, she’d brought her to Mermaids. Hearing it was Isabel’s first visit to her city, Sirena had been gracious and insisted on showing them the city. Isabel’s favorite place on their tour had been the Churchill War Rooms. During her childhood in Austria she’d heard stories of her family’s experiences during World War II and the War Rooms brought it to life for her.
A waitress appeared, whispered in Sirena’s ear, and then vanished.
“Your…appointment is here,” Sirena said. “He’s downstairs in the nightclub. And he’s with another man. A bodyguard, my people think, from the way he’s acting.”
Zoe nodded. “A bodyguard makes sense with the auction’s high-value exchange.” She frowned. “Xavier’s thirty minutes early, though. He’s casing the joint and will have a strike-back and exit plan ready if needed.”
Sirena waved her hand. “Don’t worry. You’re on my turf, darling. My people are watching every second. We’ll take care of the bodyguard. Xavier’s all yours.”
Her full ruby lips sucked the olive and she downed her martini. “His early arrival is perfect. He gets to inhale my heady scents longer. Plus, he’ll get to watch me perform. What can get better than that? He’ll have the most wonderful last night of his life.” Laughing, she rose. “Shall we go, love?”
They linked arms, and as they strolled from the lounge, Zoe acknowledged Sirena was right. Sirena’s beautiful voice and spectacular show would enthrall Xavier while the drugged air would slow his thoughts and reflexes.
Not hers, though. Sirena had sent her tonight’s drug chemistry information three days ago, and Shane had the agency make a counter-prescription for her. Her wits would be as sharp as ever.
At the elevator, Zoe turned to Sirena. “I don’t want him to see me before we meet at dinner. He’s a tricky one. He might take off.”
Sirena handed her a key card from her purse. “Go to my dressing room. I’ve got a ton of wigs and outfits in there. You’re smaller than me, but you should be able to find something to use as a disguise. From the photo you showed me, he’s handsome, in kind of a devilish way.”
“Yes, that’s a great way to describe him.”
“Good. It’ll be fun rubbing up against him during the show.” Sirena’s show clothes were sprinkled with an enhanced kratom, an herbal extract which at high doses caused opioid-like effects. “We’ll make sure he’s limp and happy for you. I’ll have Devrat rachet up the scent cloud.” Devrat was her genius potion maker and assistant.
In a purple-streaked brown wig, thick face rouge, and red tunic over her black bodysuit, Zoe left Sirena’s dressing room. A thick haze hung just below the ceiling in the nightclub. She sniffed a mélange of jasmine, sandalwood, and other Middle Eastern aromas in the perfume cloud. Devrat had outdone himself.
Sirena had discovered Devrat in India. Several times a year he returned home where he’d make side jaunts to the Middle East to obtain the finest and purest perfumes, incense, and drugs. He’d mix rose, frankincense, opium, oil of oud, or Amouage, and create a range of narcotic opiates to bring club patrons into a pleasant hallucinatory state. When you entered Mermaids, stress was left at the door.
The nightclub had a twenty-seat bar along one wall, thirty tables, and a center stage. Adjoining the nightclub, Sirena had a small gourmet restaurant with half a dozen booths and tables.
At the back of the club, Zoe scanned the tables looking for Xavier. Her gut told her he’d be here to watch the show, not waiting in the restaurant where he was to meet Hannah Szenes.
Not seeing him, she shook her head, frustrated. Of course, it’d have to be a Saturday night—easily the most crowded.
Boom…boom…
A pulsating beat vibrated the floor and walls. Amber puffs wafted into the lounge with each throbbing musical beat. The crowd took long drags of the perfumed opium chemical cloud, their steady inhalations matching the thumping tempo. Swaying to the rhythm in almost a trance-like unity, they slowed their breathing, uniting into one massive heartbeat.
Keeping her back to the wall, Zoe moved toward the bar as she scoured the tables. The bar patrons’ hair glimmered indigo, violet, orange as the rainbow neon lights flashed.
No Xavier.
Zoe stayed up against the wall. She didn’t want to give Xavier a chance to stab her from behind. While she didn’t think he’d recognize her in her outfit, the sneaky bastard shouldn’t be underestimated.
The music quieted, replaced by the sound of crashing waves. An enchanting soprano voice rose above the soothing rhythm, singing, “I want you…I want yooou.” Each word pushed one octave higher, the words ringing like a bell echoing down from heaven.
The stage curtain rose and Sirena, wearing a see-through ivory mesh dress, stood in the center. She gazed into the distance as if she were seeking her lover on a ship far across the sea. Four women in glittering turquoise gowns frolicked around her.
The lights flickered and then went out. A minute later, a spotlight bathed Sirena in fluorescent aqua. Azure and teal lights circled the room, and sounds of gurgling water and splashing waves played in the background.
Holographic images of bright red, yellow, and multicolored fish swam in the air, their gills opening and closing, fins flashing, tails swaying. They dove down between the tables. Submerged deep in the ocean with Sirena, the audience shared in the glories of the underwater world.
Swaying side to side, Sirena sang:
“Dive down into the darkness,
Paddle into the caves,
Open your eyes under water,
Swallow the waves.
Catch the elusive Mermaid,
Let her touch you,
Experience the joys of the forbidden,
Ride her into the blue.”
Stepping down from the stage, she weaved through the crowd with serpentine sinuousness, touching and caressing each person as she passed, crooning “I want you” over and over.
Nearing the center of the room, she stopped at a table and arched forward as if she were giving her large breasts to a lover to caress.
Zoe craned her neck trying to see who Sirena was seducing, and smiled as she recognized the moustached Xavier.
Next to him sat a broad-shouldered thick-necked man. Must be the bodyguard.
Placing Xavier’s hand on her bosom, Sirena rubbed up against him and he grabbed her hips. She pressed her index finger onto his lips and he sucked it.
Zoe’s grin widened. Sirena was doing a phenomenal job of drugging Xavier.
Two men entered the lounge carrying a gold seahorse carriage and went up onto to the stage. Sirena slowly pulled herself from Xavier’s grip and, with a provocative sway to her hips, she sensually slinked to the stage and climbed into the carriage. The men carried her out, marching in step to the vibrating bass beats that had opened the show. The audience rose, applauding and whistling.
The rainbow lights flashed and a deejay appeared in an upstairs balcony. Women flocked to the stage as dance music blared. Several couples headed to the restaurant.
Xavier remained at the table, chatting with a sexily dressed table companion as he sipped his drink. Glancing at his watch, he emptied his glass and got up. The bodyguard also rose.
Zoe headed to Sirena’s dressing room.
* * *
Taking a sip of bourbon, Xavier gazed out from his corner booth at the elegant white tableclothed restaurant. His bodyguard sat, texting, at another table across the aisle. He didn’t need his backup protection breathing down his neck. Just nearby, within eyesight. As the world’s best weapons developer, he knew how to be well-armed. He had a few surprises up his sleeve—literally.
He looked at his watch. Hannah Szenes was twenty minutes late. The Israeli had been the highest bidder at his auction and she stipulated the settlement had to be here. Unusual, but she’d passed a thorough security check. Maybe it was a woman thing wanting to be social.
But it wasn’t his. He had no desire to be chatty. He wanted to get this exchange over with so he could see the next show in an hour. He planned to play with Sirena after the show. She wanted him the way she fawned all over him. She was one hot bitch and, he’d bet, a lot of fun as she seemed uninhibited.
And she’d be his only screw tonight since this place was full of lesbians. It was like being in hell to be surrounded by so many gorgeous sexy women who had no interest in him.
Xavier gripped his bourbon glass, feeling lightheaded. Lesbian hell or not, he’d come back to this club in a second. The exotic scents infused him with a delicious tranquility. He hadn’t felt so relaxed in years.
Come on, Hannah Szenes or whatever your real name is. I want to get back to the club and get a good seat for the next show.
And she came.
But it was Zoe.
He grinned. Of course, it was her. He wasn’t a fool. He’d prepared for this scenario.
Carrying a glass of red wine, she slinked with catlike grace toward him. Heads turned as she passed. Such a sexual creature. The black lace hugged her every curve, arousing him.
“Hello, Hannah,” he said as Zoe slipped into the booth. “I knew GTA would send you.”
Her maroon-glossed lips curved into a lazy grin. “Of course you did. We worked together for years. You know me well.”
Yes, he did. “I’m sure you have it all planned out. It’ll be interesting to be at the other end of…the knife I contoured for you…or will it be the needle of one of my poisonous darts?”
“Oh, please,” she said. “Let’s not be uncivilized, shall we, and talk death over a meal. How do you like this club?”
He heard himself giggle. “What I want to know is…is it the new fashion to be a lesbian?” God! She, the air, were so heady. He felt drunk. He couldn’t help himself. The laugh just came.
Zoe gave him a knowing smile.
He giggled again. “Well, I guess that means yes.”
He paused, feeling serious. “I have a truth to tell you.”
“Oh, and what would that be?”
“We’re better together than apart.”
She raised a brow. “We were good together, I agree. We were the best assassin team in GTA’s history, I’ve been told. And I believe that.”
In an elegant movement, she raised her glass and swished her wine. She examined its swirling hue. “But you’re a traitor now, so we can’t be together.”
“I prefer to see myself as an entrepreneur,” he said, giggling again. He shook his head. It was hard to think, he felt so giddy. But he’d better try. A dangerous animal sat with him.
He glanced at his bodyguard, who was eating what looked like calamari. He’d been smart to hire protection. His gaze moved to the booths lining the wall next to them. Black curtains had been closed around them for privacy. Interesting. Elegant.
Stroking his moustache, his gaze traveled back to Zoe and he studied her. Her full red lips upturned in a small smile, she sipped her wine, eyeing him under her lashes.
Enchantress.
He said, “I see that rejecting me for lesbianism hasn’t changed you. You’re still a sleek, gorgeous predator.”
“Why, thank you.”
He looked up at the ceiling. “It smells good in here, very good. I like it.”
“I knew you would. I took the liberty and ordered steak. I’m guessing you’re a steak man, yes?”
“Oh, yes, I appreciate fine cuts of meat.”
A waitress headed their way, carrying a covered silver platter. Behind her was another server carrying two dinner plates loaded with steak, mixed vegetables, and mashed potatoes. They placed the platter and plates on the table and, as they left, the waitress pulled a black curtain around their booth, closing them off.
Xavier raised his bourbon. “To us. We did make an excellent team.”
“Yes, we did have a perfect track record together.” She raised her wine and they sipped.
As she set her glass down, she gave him an enigmatic Mona Lisa smile and lifted the platter cover. A long silver knife lay on the plate.
He frowned. “So soon?”
She laughed. “Of course not. I wouldn’t cut our conversation short. I enjoy our repartee too much.”
Picking up the knife, she sliced her steak into several pieces and placed it back onto the platter. “You know, the one thing I have appreciated most is your tutelage on the finesse of using knives.”
He took another sip of bourbon. She didn’t disappoint. Classy. Never rush a kill. And she wished to converse. It seemed she missed, as he did, their partnership. He picked up the knife and cut his steak.
He took a bite and said, “Excellent. I’m sorry for fucking with the truth serum on your Malta op. I hope you didn’t get hurt too badly.”
He giggled again. He couldn’t help it. The word fucking sounded so funny.
Zoe picked up the knife and in a slow graceful gesture she sliced the air in a half circle away from him, her arm long and extended like a ballerina. “This is my favorite weapon. You know that, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do.”
She rolled her hand over so her wrist faced the ceiling, and with a slow swing she brought the knife toward him. “I can understand selling GTA’s biological and chemical agents, and the cloaking technology. It’s a battlefield out there. But the mind-control program? I’m a killer, but even I can’t stomach helpless children and people being tortured until they are broken.”
“It’s just business,” he said with a shrug. “The ‘innocents’ already suffer, and they will continue to as long as there are people like me.”
He grinned. God, he hadn’t realized how brilliant a conversationalist he was. His words flowed so smoothly. “People who seek power, how they do it, what method they use, really doesn’t matter, does it? Suffering and pain are the end result of any evil act. I’m disappointed. You’ve gone soft. You care about the consequences. We’re artists. Our art is in how we design our kill, it is our dedication to the perfection of creating death. Period.”
Sharp, cool steel poked his throat and he stiffened. He hadn’t seen her move. “Get that away from me.”
Zoe smiled and pulled back the knife. “I’m just having fun.”
He patted his throat with his napkin.
She set the knife down. “Relax. Your throat is fine. I haven’t lost my touch. The point didn’t break your skin.”
Xavier dropped his napkin into his lap and tried to smooth it, but it lay wrinkled, his fingers too lazy to move.
He sniffed. Ah, he got it now. She’d lured him here because of the drugged air.
He should pull open the black curtain to check on his bodyguard and see if others in the dining room were lethargic like him…but…so relaxed…he didn’t want to move.
She’d gotten him high.
Bitch.
But a shrewd one.
They did belong together. He nodded with approval. “An astute move selecting this club for our meeting.”
“Thank you.”
“Come join me in Vienna. I’ll design the weapons. You can teach the buyers how to use them with the stealth they deserve. We can live like royalty. No more taking orders.”
“Vienna? I do love that city.”
He smiled. “I knew it. See, we were meant to be a team.”
“Yes, we were. But when you changed your path, you altered mine. You know that.”
“What I’ve done, is to free you. The future is ours to mold, together, in Vienna.”
“Sorry, Xavier. You’re living in a fantasy. The club air is getting to you. It’s not going to happen.”
“Fine.” His hand slipped into his shirt cuff and he whipped out a shiny gold pen. It sprayed a poisonous powder.
But at the same moment, Zoe reached toward the knife.
His weak fingers unscrewed the pen cap in slow motion.
Fuck, he should’ve gotten off his ass and opened the black curtain.
She leaned in.
The knife’s sharp point burned as it entered between his ribs.
She snatched the pen from him and threw it aside. Her hand went to her leg pocket and whipped out another dagger.
Ignoring the pain in his side, he lunged at her. He grabbed her wrist, yanking her dagger hand down. No way would he let the slut stab him twice.
Throwing his body on top of hers, he pressed her shoulder down with his free hand.
Gazing into her smoky brown eyes, he snarled, “You’ve met your match. Even drugged up I’m better than you.”
She arched her torso and swung her legs over, locking him in a tight clench.
Zoe twisted her dagger arm to get free.
He gripped her harder, but drugged, he didn’t have his full strength.
A searing pain ripped into his temple.
Her shiny lips curved upward. “Sorry. This is just business.”
* * *
Zoe propped Xavier up, but he fell forward, his face landing in the potatoes. She grinned. He didn’t stand a chance between her legs. One of her training routines was on a stripper pole. Her thigh muscles were like vice clamps.
She said, “Falcon, ‘traitor’ down.”
“Excellent, Wildcat. Search him.”
“Roger that.”
She pressed the call button under the table to contact Sirena and proceeded to search Xavier.
The former GTA weapons developer lived up to his reputation. She removed a dagger from a calf sheath, a locket-sized container with a powder—poisonous, she presumed—from his pants pocket, and a small vial of liquid Velcroed to his right shirt cuff. Again, it’d be poison. She dumped them in her purse along with his gold pen that she’d picked up off the floor.
He’d expected her.
Zoe found the prototype in his left shoe heel and the thumb drive in the right one. She pulled a palm-sized tablet from her purse and plugged the drive into it. She read the files on the screen. The stolen GTA material.
Xavier was so greedy he brought the stolen items just in case it wasn’t her and a representative for the Israeli military did show up. He’d never lose an opportunity for money.
And his greed made him make another mistake. Intoxicated by his payday, he got lazy and didn’t bother to figure out a new place to store valuables. He’d been the one to teach her to use her shoe heels as weapons and storage. Of course she’d search his shoes.
“Falcon, prototype and drive with data recovered on his person.”
“Excellent,” Easton’s baritone voice boomed in her ear. “We know where he’s been staying. We’ll search his location and possessions to make sure no other copies. Outstanding job, Wildcat.”
But her heart didn’t burst with pride at his praise.
Her stomach cramped and she wanted to vomit.
“Signing off.” She tucked the prototype and drive into her empty thigh sheath.
Sirena slipped between the curtains and closed them behind her. “I got your buzz. That was fast!”
Her eyes widened as she gazed at Xavier. “Whoa! Two knives?”
“He irritated me. He was a giggling fool. I’m sorry about the mess.” Blood soaked the tablecloth and the booth seat.
Sirena flipped her hand. “Don’t worry about it. All the cushions have been treated with a protective sealant. You wouldn’t believe the stuff that goes on here.” She winked. “Oh, actually, yes, you would.”
“How are you going to get him out of here?”
“Again, not your worry. I’ve had enough years of experience dealing with people who passed out from drinking or drugs. He’ll be covered with a sheet and my bouncers will carry him out at the appropriate time—along with his bodyguard who had to run to the bathroom after eating his calamari. Poor man passed away on the toilet.” She laughed. “Devrat can be the devil with his potions at times. I’m performing in five. Going to stay for my show?”
“No. I’m going back to the hotel and call Isabel.” And call Chicago to check in on our little girl. Zoe caught her breath. Their little girl. She thought it so naturally, without thinking twice about it. She liked the warm feeling the thought gave her.
Sirena raised an eyebrow. “It still hasn’t registered to me that you’re no longer the party animal.”
“The clubs will just have to go on without me.”
“It won’t be the same.” She grabbed Zoe’s hand, leading her from the booth.
Only two tables were occupied as most diners had headed to the lounge for the show.
As they weaved through empty tables, Zoe touched the bump in her thigh pocket.
Nothing stayed the same except, as Xavier had said: the innocent were always the ones who suffered in the greedy race for money and power.